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11-29-2012, 09:47 PM
Perhaps he had the makings of a fisherman; pride swelled chest when spear struck through and, captured a now squirming fish. He now had two kabobs for the unborn soul to partake in. Limbs moved bulk from stream bed and onto firm ground again, jaws opened to receive his other kill. After returning both to the ground near his egg, Midas turned back to the forest. An open glade lay ahead, with patches of sunlight trailing through. A loud, ‘squawk’ caught attention. Sitting on a branch nearby was a vulture, its black feather glistening almost blue when the sun hit just right. Hissing at Midas upon approach the bird leapt from one branch to another, its black beady eyes watching him carefully. Golden pools turned to his avian brother, and saw the immense hunger burning within. Apparently few carcasses had fallen for him to have sights on the living, huffing Midas called forth his talent yet again. This time taking a moment to create tiny balls of hardened sand; two dozen or so form under his command. Each ball was slightly smaller than a poison berry. When ready he let the balls fire in scattered formation, attempting to piece the chest of the feathered scavenger. |
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